


Looking For Monsters

by Lost_in_stars



Series: Monsters And Movement [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Depression (and other mental illnesses), Exchanging Secrets, Gay Billy Hargrove, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Secrets, Steve Harrington falls in love really easily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-19 04:43:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20325292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lost_in_stars/pseuds/Lost_in_stars
Summary: “Tell me something then,” Steve said. “That nobody else in Hawkins knows.”So Billy did.





	Looking For Monsters

When Billy was sad, he used to cry. He used to curl up in his bed and cry because ‘_my grandma died_,’ and because ‘_my friend said I’m weird_.’ He would look up at his ceiling, a pillow hugged to his chest, and sob to his hearts content.

Crying was allowed back then.

In fact, crying was _encouraged_. His mother used to hug him, stroke his curly blonde hair, whisper in his ear as he hiccuped and sobbed. “Let it all out,” She used to say. “Its okay to cry, baby.”

That rule – crying was okay – changed when his mother came home with a purple bruise on her neck. She didn't notice it until Billy pointed it out as he sat on her bed, watching as she painted her toenails red. When he said, “Mummy, your neck has a purple spot,” she turned bright red and rushed to the bathroom. When she returned, she was wearing makeup on her neck and begged Billy not to mention it to his father. He was confused, but he agreed.

As a reward, she painted his own toenails red and let him wear her comfortable silk robe.

But the purple bruise turned out to be much more of a problem than Billy thought it was. His dad, Neil, noticed it when they were gathered around the dinner table. “What the fuck is that?” He barked, his eyes lowered to her neck. “Is that a hickey?”

“No,” Billy’s mother answered, her eyes widening in fear. “I just-- I just burnt myself on my hair straightener.”

His dad stood up, grabbed her by the hair, and shoved her against the wall. Billy started to cry, which must have caught his father’s attention. He abandoned the blonde woman and turned around, eyes blazing murderously. “Did you know about this?” He bellowed. “Answer me!”

“No,” Billy sobbed. “I didn't know! I would have helped her straighten her hair if she was home but--”

He was cut off as Neil grabbed his arm roughly. “Stop fucking crying, you look like a pussy,” The older man said. Billy could smell alcohol on his breath. “Now, calm the fuck down and tell me what you mean, _‘if she was home_.’”

“She was out all morning,” Billy hiccuped and wiped tears away with his sleeve. “I’m sorry I didn't help her with her hair, but she wasn't here.”

He was unaware of the damage he had caused until his mother started to cry, hiding her face in her hands. Neil leered down at him, clapping hand on his young son’s shoulder. “Good,” He said. “Good boy for telling me. Now, go to your bedroom while I have a talk with your mother.”

“You’re not going to hurt her, are you?” Billy asked, his eyes welling up with tears again. Neil suddenly pressed a thumb into his eye and the boy jerked back, holding his eye. “Ow!” He squeaked.

“I said to stop crying. I’ll jab you harder if you do it again,” Neil said. “Now. Go to your bedroom.”

Scared and a little confused, Billy retreated to his bedroom, pulling the covers over his head to block out the noise of his parents shouting.

By the time Billy was twelve, he had discovered it was easier to hit things than to cry. Sometimes, his dad was proud of him for it. When he came home with bruised knuckles, Neil asked if they deserved it. Billy learned some answers pleased him more than others.

He would watch the delight dance through his father’s eyes when Billy would say, “Yes, it was a queer,” or “Yes, the guy was black.”

The bruises weren't from him merely beating people up though. It was a fair fight, most of the time. Billy also won most of the time. He learned tricks, he learned how to get people hyped up. He learned that some girls didn't care he was only twelve. He looked older, and that was all that mattered. He kissed one once after a fight. She had tasted like blood from his split lip, and he was pretty sure she was over eighteen. He hated it.

At fourteen, Billy hadn't cried in nearly three years. He had a new step-sister, and a new step-mum. Maxine, the kid, had the sort of fire that Billy admired. She stood up to Neil. Billy couldn't stand up to Neil. He could only nod his head and take the hits.

He wanted to scream at them to get out. He wanted to say _“Max, you don't deserve a dad like mine, you need to leave!” _He wanted to shake Susan’s shoulders and scream _“He’s a bad man, Susan! You need to get the fuck out while you still can! He’s going to hurt you both!”_

But Neil didn't hit them. Billy waited for days, weeks, months, for the first sign of danger. He waited for Susan to stand over the bathroom sink with blood dripping from her lip. He waited for Maxine to start wearing long sleeves to hide bruises. Only after being with them for one year, he realised that Neil was never going to hurt them. Because they were special. Maxine had fire, and Neil liked that. Susan had a timid personality and a sweet body, and Neil really liked that.

Billy?

Billy had anger issues, a mum that left, and three letters from the teachers he had yet to give to his father.

Useless, his dad would say. Bloody useless.

At fifteen, Billy discovered another way of taking out his anger. Sex. The first person was a girl named Nina, who wasn't pretty in the slightest. She had a thicker body than a lot of girls, a masculine face, and nearly no chest. Billy wasn't sure why he liked her.

He discovered a few weeks later it was because she looked like a boy.

Now with knowledge that he, Billy Hargrove, was a _queer_, a _faggot_, Billy had yet another thing to keep secret. Just like his cigarettes, just like the whiskey under his bed and the staggering amount of letters and bad grades from school that he still hadn't given to his dad.

The first boy Billy kissed was a bigger, tougher guy by the name of Wade. He kissed like there was no tomorrow, and Billy got drunk with him. The two went out to Wade’s car and fucked. Wade was softer than Billy thought he would be. He taught him the best positions, called him pretty, and listened when Billy told him to go slower.

Billy was actually sad when Wade said that he had to leave for New York the day after, but he didn't show it. He instead nodded, took a long drag of his cigarette, and said “Tell me if you’re ever back in Cali. You’re a good lay.”

They fucked once more and Wade left.

There were plenty of guys after Wade. Some of them sweet, some of them rough. Some of them were older men, and some of them were Billy’s age. All of them were Billy’s dirty little secret.

Neil beat Billy up when he was sixteen. He had discovered all the letters from the school. He also found out that Billy was spending ninety percent of his time down at the pier. “You piece of shit,” He said when Billy opened the front door and ten pm, a bite mark from his latest one-nightly lover throbbing on his neck.

“Huh?” Billy asked dumbly. “What are you going on about?”

When Neil waved paper in his face. Billy could clearly see some of circled red letters – most of them F’s – and his teachers neat handwriting.

“Oh. You found them.”

His dad backhanded him and Billy stumbled, his head hitting the door. The rest of that night was blur, but he woke up in the hospital with Susan and Max next to him. “Neil says to tell you that you got beaten up by three men on the way home from school,” Susan said timidly.

Billy got the hint. He told the nurse he was beaten up by three huge guys, but couldn't remember most of it.

When he arrived home a few days later with pain medication in his pocket, Neil was standing next to a dark blue ‘79 Camaro. He got that hint as well.

“_Don’t tell anyone.”_

Billy quickly earned a reputation in his high school for being insane, but in a good way. He was arrested twice on school premises for fighting with the teachers. He drove the fastest and coolest car, he wore the most outrageous clothing, he knew how to get his hands on the types of drugs that a lot of people were too scared to try.

The students didn't know about Billy’s nightly lovers, they didn't know the bruises were made by his dad, they didn't know the car was a fucking bribe to keep his mouth shut. The only person they knew was Billy’s shell, his mask. Nobody knew the real him. Not even Billy.

Billy still got away with a lot of things. His dad set a curfew? Ha, he wasn't going to obey that. He went out to a party, got drunk, and received a punch to the ribs, but it was worth it. He learned there were things he could get away with saying to his father, as long as he said them in the right tone. He learned that Neil no longer liked it if he came home with bruised knuckles, because Susan and Max were in the room.

While his home life was less than ideal, Billy’s nights were becoming better and better. He discovered a way to sneak in a gay bar in the back streets, which meant a lot more hookups and a lot more drinks. Older men constantly tried to get into his pants by coming up behind him, gripping his waist, and asking if he wanted a drink. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes Billy already had his eyes on somebody else and would shove away from the guys.

He grew close with the bartender, a black man named Tyler. Tyler would slip him drinks when nobody was looking, and pretended not to notice that Billy was underage. He was the only person who asked where Billy got that black eye, and also the only person to drop the subject when Billy started to bristle up.

Billy realised he was in love with him one morning when everybody else had left and it was just them. Tyler was mopping up the remains of last nights alcohol, humming along to some song Billy had never heard. Billy was sitting on top of the bar, a cigarette in one hand and a martini in the other.

“I was thinking,” Billy had said, taking a long sip of his drink. Liquid courage. “Do you want to hang out next week? Like, get dinner or something? Maybe catch a movie?”

Tyler had straightened, turning around slowly to stare at the blonde. “I cant,” Tyler said, and Billy heart ached. But the man kept talking. “Not if its a one night thing.”

“No,” Billy said. “Not a one night thing. Go on a date with me, Ty.”

“Okay,” Tyler had grinned then. He dropped the mop, moved forward in three strides, and pressed his lips against Billy’s.

The two dated secretly for five months. On the sixth, their anniversary, they began to grow careless with who saw them. They risked it more often than not, with sneaky kisses on the cheek when they said goodbye to each other at the train station, hoping nobody would beat them up because they were two men. They were so quick, though, that barely anybody noticed.

Tyler gave Billy a lighter for his birthday. It was silver, with a heart and some words carved into the bottom of it. _Love, Tyler_. It made Billy smile. He didn't care that they were in public, that somebody could glance underneath the pier and see them. All he could think in that moment was how much he loved that man.

So he told him. “I love you,” He said. “I fucking love you.”

Tyler had said, “I love you too, Bills.”

They had kissed then. Tyler’s lips against his felt soft, tasting like cigarettes and alcohol. It was the best kiss they had ever shared.

“Billy?” A girls voice squeaked, and the two men tugged apart. Billy had stared at his step-sister, who was standing only a few metres away from them with wide eyes and disgust crossing her face. “You… Oh my god.”

“Max,” Billy pulled away from Tyler to slowly approach her. “Max, I need you to keep this a secret. I’ll do anything--”

The redhead let out a whimper and turned away, her feet thudding against the ground as she ran away as fast as her little legs could take her. Billy swore loudly, started to go after her, but he felt a hand on his arm. “Billy,” Tyler said. “Leave her.”

“I cant,” Billy said, knowing how panicked he sounded. “I have to find her before she finds my dad.”

He ran away as well, following the smaller girl while he shouted her name.

She got home before he did. Neil was waiting for him. Billy stood at the door, horrified that he had lost the race – a race, it seemed, for his life – and took a step back. Max hugged Susan tightly. “I’m sorry I ran away,” She had sobbed into her mother’s dress. “But Billy was with a guy and they were kissing and that’s wrong so I came back here--”

“Max!” Billy had snapped. “Shut the fuck up, you fucking cunt!”

“No,” Neil grabbed Billy’s shirt and pulled him inside, closing the front door behind him. “What she did was very brave, and very good. You, on the other hand… You’re nothing but a faggot.”

Neil slammed his son back into the wall and punched him once, twice, three times in the face. Billy groaned, feeling his nose break and blood gushing down his face. He looked to the side and saw Maxine crying louder.

She was allowed to cry, he realised. She was allowed to cry because she was _special_, and he was not. He was a faggot, he was useless, stupid, fucking pathetic, and he knew it.

A few weeks later, after Billy returned from hospital, again, Tyler showed up at their front door. Billy had opened it when he heard the doorbell ringing. He stared in horror at the man on his doorstep. “The fuck are you doing here?” He hissed. “Ty, you cant be here.”

“What happened, Bill?” Tyler reached up, stroking Billy’s cheek. Billy had leaned into the touch before pushing Tyler’s hand away.

“You need to leave,” Billy had said. “Right fucking now.”

“Who’s at the door?” Neil had screamed from the kitchen then. Billy panicked, staring back in horror.

“I, uh, no one!” Billy shouted. “Don’t worry!”

“William! Come here, you’re not finished cleaning the lounge room yet!”

“Just a minute!”

Billy then turned back to Tyler, who reached up to touch Billy’s face again. Billy shoved his hand away. He couldn't. He couldn't handle it.

“I’m sorry,” He had whispered as he fished the lighter Tyler had given him for his birthday out of his pocket. “Its over.”

After handing the lighter over, Billy slammed the door shut and was horrified to find tears in his eyes.

He wiped them away.

Only a few weeks after Billy had broken up with Tyler, Neil revealed that they were moving to a small town in Indiana. Billy was practically dragged there, kicking and screaming, with all of his possessions packed into a few boxes in the back of his car.

Billy was invited to the same party three times by different girls. Each time, he accepted the invitation with a wink, and tucked the orange pamphlet into his pocket. “I’ll see if I can fit it into my schedule, baby,” He told the girl, Tina, who was hosting the party. Her name had sounded similar to Nina and he instantly remembered that one time he had actually slept with a girl.

The Halloween party was nothing compared to the ones they had back in California. He used to sneak into them with Tyler. His heart twinged at the thought.

Within the hour, Billy had claimed the record for the keg stand. So he became the “Keg King.” Whatever. Billy was too drunk to actually care.

He had shouted something once he had claimed the record. People were chanting his name as he walked past them and he had grinned as he moved amongst the dancing crowd. For a moment, since he was so high, the strip of toilet paper hanging from the roof fascinated him. He stroked it, wondering how much he had had to smoke, before somebody across the room caught his eye.

There was a boy who had just entered the party, dressed in all black with the most ridiculous pair of sunglasses that Billy had ever seen. Without giving it a second thought, Billy had pushed through the crowd, avoiding a couple making out, and stood in front of the guy. Tommy, one of the people Billy had managed to turn into a henchman, stood next to him. “Got ourselves a new keg king, Harrington,” Tommy had said, grinning his stupid grin.

“Yeah, that’s right!” A guy who Billy hadn't known the name of moved forward. “Eat it, Harrington!”

_So_, Billy had thought. _This is King Steve._

Billy had heard a lot about ‘King Steve’ in the few days he had been at school. Apparently, he had once owned the place. Then he had ditched the title of ‘King’ for a prissy bitch named Nancy Wheeler, who Billy had guessed was the girl standing next to him.

‘King Steve’ then took his glasses off and stared at Billy as the girl next to him walked off. His eyes were brown, so goddamn brown. Like chocolate, glittering in the flashing lights of the party. He had scowled, raised his eyebrows at Billy, before turning to follow the girl.

For the first time since Tyler, Billy’s heart had began to thud faster.

He knew he was already falling way too hard – and way too fast – for King fucking Steve.

After that short moment, Billy had done everything he could to get Steve’s attention. Pushing his chest up against Steve’s arm in basketball practice, trying to give him advice when he found out Wheeler had ditched him for the freak. He had known he was like a boy in the kindergarten playground, pulling on the pigtails of a girl he liked. It was pathetic, really.

He had known things weren't going well, because he knew Steve Harrington was straight. But still didn't stop. _Couldn't_.

Things had been okay – alright, that was a lie, Steve hated him – until one night.

Billy had been preparing for a date when his dad came bursting through the door. He was forced to leave with his cheek stinging from the slap.

He had cried again that night. It was nothing too extreme, just a few tears of frustration. He was boiling with anger when he left the house. Fucking Maxine, she had run away. And he was the one who had to go fucking find her.

Karen Wheeler, Nancy Wheeler’s mother, gave him the address to Will Byers’ house. Billy had heard the story from Tommy – Will was Zombie Boy to him – and thanked Karen.

He fists found Steve’s face that night. The boy had been lying to him, saying his sister wasn't there. Billy was already full of fire from the fight with his father. He took it out on Steve.

He hadn't meant to hurt Steve that badly. Just a push to the ground, a quick kick to the ribs. Billy put up with that every fucking day at his own house, somebody else could handle that shit as well. He had entered the house, and found Max in there.

When he woke up the next day, the memories of the night before were blurry, but he knew enough. His neck and head hurt, and the house was empty. He had lied there for a few minutes, tears dripping down his face. It wasn't from the pain, but he wished it was. He was really crying because – fuck – his life goddamn _sucked_. And he knew it. There was nothing he could do to change it.

When he heard the roar of his car outside, a purr of the engine he knew so well, he finally decided to get off the floor. With a groan, he grabbed a hold of the shelves next to him and pulled himself up.

Steve and Maxine’s weird little friends walked through the door. They took one look at Billy before Steve tossed him his keys. His face was truly fucked. Billy stared at it for a second, unsure what the heavy feeling – he wasn't feeling guilty, right? – in his chest was.

Billy’s dad didn't want to know what had happened. Instead, Neil and Susan fussed around Max, who had a few scraped knees and elbows, and ignored Billy. He hadn't expected them to do anything about it, but still. It kind of sucked. He went into his bedroom, flopped on his bed, and slept for the rest of the day.

The next time Billy really talked to Steve was the night of the Snowball. Billy had been stuck driving Maxine – he was actually a little scared of her, since recovering some of the memories, one of which being a bat full of nails nearly to the balls – and he saw Steve’s familiar car outside. He was dropping off one of the kids as well.

When Steve drove off, Billy abandoned his cigarette and got into his own car. He turned the engine on and followed Steve, nervously tapping his hand on his steering wheel as he did so.

Steve hadn't gone home. Instead, he had parked out at the quarry and was standing at the edge of the cliff. At his feet, Billy could see a bat with long nails in it. He briefly remembered that bat. Making sure not to scare him so the fucker wouldn't fall, Billy turned his music up when he approached. He parked next to Steve’s car and got out.

“Harrington,” He had said. Steve turned around, his face barely visible in the dim moonlight. Billy approached him slowly, much like one would do with a scared animal. “Whatcha doing out here?”

“Not sure,” Steve said. “Just wanted a bit of fresh air, I guess.”

Billy then pulled a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket, lighting one and offering the packet to the other boy. Steve accepted one, lighting it with Billy’s lighter, and blew smoke out of his nose. Billy gestured to the edge of the cliff they were both standing on. “You weren't thinking of jumping, right amigo?”

“No,” Steve sat down, his legs hanging off the edge. “I just like the thrill.”

“Good,” Billy continued, doing the same thing as Steve, sitting down next to him. “I wouldn't like to read about the tragic suicide of King Steve. I actually would have been sad. And that’s not me being sarcastic, I’d actually attend you funeral to bawl about you.”

“Tch, don’t act like you care.”

“I care a lot more than you’d know,” Billy said without thinking. He played it off with a laugh, puffing out a cloud of smoke.

They had fallen silent then. Billy felt like he needed to say something.

“Sometimes I think about it.”

“What?”

“Jumping,” Billy looked down. “Don’t have much to live for anyway.”

“You’re Billy Hargrove. You have plenty to live for. Hawkins loves you.”

Billy could feel Steve’s eyes on him, but he didn't do anything. Instead, he just shook his head and smiled, raising two fingers to his lips to throw away the filter of his finished cigarette. “There’s a lot of things the people in Hawkins don't know about me, Harrington.”

He expected a scornful, “Well if you weren't so damn mysterious, then maybe we’d know more,” or a scoff. Instead, what he got was Steve’s hand on his knee. He looked down, then looked up again. “Tell me something then,” Steve said. “That nobody else in Hawkins knows.”

So Billy did.

Soon, Steve knew a lot of things nobody else knew. He knew that Billy missed his Mum more than anything. He knew that sometimes – rarely, but sometimes – Billy would think about suicide. He knew that Billy heard voices in his head. He knew about the sadness, Billy’s panic attacks, the guilt, the fucking depression that Billy had no idea how to get rid of.

In exchange, he had told Billy a few of his own secrets.

Steve found it hard to sleep. Steve had nightmares and cried in his sleep. He sometimes had panic attacks as well. He was scared of the dark. He also believed in monsters.

“You believe in monsters?” Billy had said. It wasn't mean, just curious. “Isn’t it stupid to be here then? Why the hell are you out here if you think there’s monsters in the forest?

“Maybe,” Steve had replied, gripping the handle of his nail bat tightly. “Maybe I’m looking for them.”

“I don't understand.”

“No,” The boy looked away. “But maybe you will eventually.”

When Billy went to pick up Maxine from the Snowball that night, Steve’s words were echoing in his head. In fact, he couldn't get them out of his head for nearly a week. Whenever he had had a spare moment, when he wasn't focusing on his maths homework or screaming along to the lyrics of a song, his brain helpfully reminded him of what Steve had said. Steve was looking for monsters.

Billy hadn't understood why until he had a bad nightmare and went to go pick a fight with Neil.

He looked for monsters too, he realised as Neil backhanded him across the face. _I look for monsters, my own personal monster, when I’m feeling down. Because pain is the easiest way to forget the past_.

The first time Billy and Steve kissed was nearly two months after their rocky friendship had developed. They were high off shitty Hawkins weed and munching loudly on green apples. There was juice dripping down Billy’s chin, and he was beginning to notice that Steve was looking at him differently than he did to all his other friends. More… Fondly. Like the way he used to look at Nancy.

He wasn't sure how he felt about that.

The thing was, Billy still wasn't over Tyler. He didn't know if he would be over him for a while. He didn't _want _to like Steve, he didn't want to think dirty things about the other boy, he didn't want to kiss Steve when his heart still belonged to Tyler.

So he kept playing it off as just sexual attraction. It had only been him and his hand for nearly four months, it was fucking _normal_, okay? Back off. But deep down, Billy knew it was more than that. Steve meant a lot to him. Not only as a friend, but… As more than a friend. He wanted to do things with Steve that he did with Tyler.

It was loneliness, he kept telling himself. It was loneliness. Steve and Tyler were a lot alike, that was all. He had known that wasn't true, but he didn't want to accept the fact that Tyler was no longer his one and only.

He remembered the heartbreak in Tyler’s eyes when Billy broke it off with him. He had been practically able to hear Tyler’s heart shatter when he handed the lighter back to him. He had seen tears welling up in his eyes, he had seen the anger, the sadness, the betrayal.

_Never again_, Billy had thought as he watched Steve take another messy bite of his apple. _I’m not hurting someone like that again_.

It was Neil’s fault, and Billy knew that. But he couldn't – _wouldn't _– stop feeling guilty about shattering Tyler’s heart into millions of pieces.

“I’m fucking tired, man,” Steve had said then, pulling Billy out of his haze of guilty thoughts. “Mind if I just, like, fall asleep right fucking here?”

“Its your bed,” Billy finished his apple and tossed the core across the room carelessly. “I don’t fucking care.”

“You wanna stay here tonight?” Steve asked, his voice low. Billy knew what that meant. He knew, if he was going to keep his heart reserved for Tyler, then fucking Harrington wasn't the best idea. So, like a responsible – and loyal! – person, Billy decided he was going to say no.

He silently congratulated himself.

“Sure,” He said, lying down next to Steve.

Well. Shit.

Both of them had been stoned, and exhausted from a long day of basketball, but when they lied on the bed with their faces so close together, Billy was suddenly very awake. Steve’s eyes were very memorising. So brown. So glittery. So dark.

Just like Tyler’s, Tyler’s were brown, they were gorgeous, he missed him, he--

Then Steve’s lips were on his and his mind went blank.

It took him horribly long to gain enough courage to push Steve away. “What the hell,” He said, panting. “What the fucking hell, Harrington.”

“I...” Steve had looked down with an awkward little laugh. “Fuck man, I’m so fucking stoned. Sorry, that was dumb.”

“Yeah,” Billy rubbed at his lips. “Yeah, it fucking was.”

He got up, grabbed his jacket, and left. Instead of slamming the door like he usually did, he closed it with a quiet click.

When Billy arrived home that night, he picked another fight with his father. Steve’s words echoed in his again – _“Maybe I go looking for them,” _– and ignored them. He knew he was looking for monsters. He didn't need reminding.

When he had managed to acquire a bleeding lip, he returned to his room and dug through all of the boxes he still had yet to unpack until he found a small slip of paper with a number written on it. He went down to the payphone a few streets away and punched in the numbers.

“Hello?” A voice had answered, breathlessly. “Tyler speaking.”

Billy was silent for a moment before he spoke. “Ty?” He said, listening as the boy’s breath caught in his throat when he heard Billy’s voice. “It’s… It’s Billy. Fuck, I’m...” A tear dripped down his face and he hastily wiped it away. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” Tyler whispered into the phone. “But I’m over you, Billy.”

There was a beep then, and he pulled the phone away from his ear. Tyler had hung up on him. He slammed the phone back down and stomped back to his car.

The next time he saw Steve was only the next morning. The boy had knocked on the window of Billy’s car (where he had fallen asleep, parked outside the payphone), a cigarette behind his ear and a cup of steaming hot coffee in one hand. He looked sheepish, guilty. Billy sighed and unlocked the door.

“You know,” Steve had said when he sat down in Billy’s passenger seat. “There’s this thing. Its called a house. I’m pretty sure you have one.”

“Mm,” Billy grumbled, taking the coffee out of Steve’s hand and taking a sip, not caring when it burnt his tongue. “I’m not always welcome there.”

“Oh,” Steve looked confused for a second before his face lit up. “Well, you’re always welcome at my place!”

“Mm,” Billy said again.

“Look, about yesterday. I get you’re not into guys, so--” Steve started, but Billy interrupted him.

“There was a boy,” He admitted, not looking Steve in the eye. “Back in Cali. I loved him. I – fuck – I still _do_. But I broke his heart because my dad found out about us. I don't want to do the same to you.”

Feeling stupid, Billy looked at Steve from underneath his eyelashes. “I’m just scared,” He continued. “And if you tell anyone I just said that then I’ll gut you in your sleep, Harrington. But I’m scared about hurting people. I’m scared about…” He thought about his mother. “About them leaving and never coming back. I’m scared about my dad finding out that I like you. I’m scared because I spent so long not feeling anything except for when I was with Tyler, and then I come here, and suddenly I’m feeling _so _many fucking _feelings_, and I _hate _it. I’m a mess, Steve. I’m a fucking mess. A fucked up mess.”

“I like you, even as a mess,” Steve said. “I know you’re fucked up. So am I. So are a lot of the people I know. And it’s _okay_, Billy. We can be messes together.”

“Fuck,” Billy looked at Steve’s brown eyes and sighed. “Okay. Let’s be messes together.”

A few weeks after their relationship had become just that – a real fucking relationship – Billy told Steve he understood. The boy had stared at him, confused, hair ruffled from the towel he had been using to dry it with when he got out of the shower, and asked him what he meant.

“I go looking for monsters,” Billy said. “I pick fights with my dad. I go looking for monsters.”

Steve smiled, a small soft smile he had reserved for Billy, and shook his head as he continued to brush his hair. “Different monsters.”

Billy lifted his shirt to reveal a bruise on his stomach. “My personal monster,” He said. “My own personal fucking monster.”

The look of horror, pity, and disgust that flooded Steve’s face was enough to make Billy turn away to hide his tears. He had been crying a lot, and he knew he had to stop. “My personal monster,” He repeated, slamming the bathroom door shut as he left.

Steve found him curled up underneath the blankets, half asleep, Metallica turned up so loud it was a wonder the speakers hadn't blown. The boy didn't say a word. He just crawled underneath the blankets with Billy and wiped away the blonde’s tears.

“I love you,” He said.

“I love you too,” Billy whispered back, after a long moment of silence.

He didn't feel guilty, and that was a good thing.

Billy Hargrove didn't go looking for monsters after that, nor did he try to hide his emotions away from the world.

He decided that he could live by his mother’s rule again. Crying was okay.

Things were okay.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really tired, but I was inspired to write this, so I did.
> 
> Update: Hey! So, I'm a little more awake now so I edited this and found a whole bunch of mistakes. I hope its a little better now. <3 have a nice day, lovelies


End file.
